


Bound

by AngelQueen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gen Fic, Kink Meme, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't understand it. Post-Series 4 fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this KMM prompt [here](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/16289.html?thread=14419361#t14419361).

_She doesn’t understand it._

* * *

The mercenary peers down over the rock formation, down into the narrow canon. His allies fight furiously with the knights of Camelot, mixing in together and creating a sea of red and black. His eyes, however, drift behind this seething, writhing mass of steel and death, to the area that the knights struggle to defend.

There are two of them. One is a thin figure dressed in the tattered brown of a peasant, with a red scrap of cloth around his neck, but the other, the other is dressed in the chain mail and red cape of a knight. It isn’t that which gets his attention, though. It is the man’s fair hair. Almost like pale gold.

_Arthur Pendragon._

A gleeful smile crosses his face. This is the unlooked for opportunity of a lifetime. The knights may be keeping his cohorts away from their king, but they cannot defend him from threats from above. Only the peasant stands guard over him, and he wears no armor, has no protection of his own.

This will be all too easy. One shot, and the Pendragon king will be dead, dead and making way for the Pendragon witch, who has promised him and his fellows a piece of the golden kingdom. One shot, and it’s all his. He raises his crossbow, visions of land and gold and pretty, buxom maidservants running through his mind. His finger tightens on the trigger -

Pain explodes behind his eyes and he rears back, screaming from the agony. His shot flies and harmlessly strikes a tree, but he only hears the _thwack_ distantly as he’s thrown backward, slamming hard against a tree.

The last thing he sees is the Pendragon witch, her eyes glowing with power and fury.

* * *

_He tries not to think on it too much._

* * *

Arthur feels the heat of Merlin’s magic swirling in the air. It wraps around him, sinking through his chain mail and gliding along his skin, warming and protecting him. It makes him feel more secure than any shield, any mail, any weapon.

He doesn’t have to turn to his right to know that Merlin’s eyes are bright with magic. A beautiful sight, he knows, but one that will get the other man killed.

Arthur looks about wildly, knowing it’s only a matter of time before the knights turn in their direction. He stares upward, and catches a hint of a black cloaked figure.

_Morgana_.

Arthur seizes the chance. Raising his sword, he bellows for the others to follow him, that she is in sight.

Crisis averted. This time.

* * *

_He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t end it._

* * *

She stumbles just a few feet in front of him, and Merlin knows that Morgana is running out of energy, of will, of desire to run. They’ve done this so many times, it’s no wonder that they’re growing weary of it.

Merlin can hear the others crashing through the thickets several yards behind him, and knows that they won’t be here for another minute or two. He focuses on Morgana.

She’s wounded, he can see that much. The way she clutches at her side, the dark liquid that seeps through her fingers. She’s hunched defensively, no doubt waiting for him to attack her. It’s quite the turnaround, he thinks. Normally, even if she’s wounded, Morgana never seems to fear him. Her lack of knowledge of his magic has always made her confident when she faces him alone.

There’s a shout from behind them, and they both jerk. Morgana takes a step back, nearly falling. 

Merlin knows what will happen if the knights catch up with her. Gwaine and Elyan hate her with a fiery passion; he’s seen the bloodlust in their eyes when they’ve spoken of her. She’s no longer a woman to them, she’s a monster, no different than a griffin, a hydra, or some other creature that has to be killed. He’s not entirely sure even Arthur could call restrain them if they find her.

Still, he knows that, logically, he should let them catch her. Morgana is the most dangerous enemy Camelot has ever known. More than Nimueh, more than Morgause, more than even Mordred. She won’t stop, not as long as she thinks she has a right to Arthur’s throne.

He’s had her at his mercy before, had his magic ready to crush her, to end the threat to Arthur and Camelot, but he’s always hesitated. He looks at her, wounded and frightened, and he remembers her from before. He remembers the first time he saw her, when he was certain she was the most beautiful person in all the world. He remembers her kindness, how she was the first to volunteer to come help him defend Ealdor. He remembers her fear slowly consuming her, the fear of what Uther would do to her if he found out what she was.

He remembers his own failure. He should have done more for her, more than dropping her on the Druids, more than a bottle of poison.

Merlin moves before he can think about it any further. She tenses, wary of an attack and preparing a counter, but he only reaches out to her. One arm wraps around her back, holding her up, while his other hand presses on hers. Before he can think of anything else, the words of the healing spell fall off his lips.

Morgana stiffens, her eyes growing huge with shock, but she doesn’t push him off her.

Within seconds, it’s done. She is still weak, but her blood no longer flows from her body.

She gapes at him, completely at a loss for words. 

Merlin wants to take a moment to stare at her, to see if there truly is anything left of the woman he once knew, but the sound of footsteps crunching through leaves is abnormally loud in his ears. Instead, he lets go of her and steps back. “Go,” is all he can say. “Hurry.”

For a brief, unending second, Morgana doesn’t move at all. It is only the loud approach of the others that causes her to hiss a spell which has her vanish on a breeze.

When Arthur and the knights crash into the clearing, Merlin is alone.

* * *

_They none of them understand it, only that it exists. They will hate and rage against one another for the secrets they all keep, but even when their hands are poised to strike the final blow,_ something _stays them._

_They are bound to each other, and in the end, cannot finish what has been started._


End file.
